


high tide

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Episode: s11e06 Our Little World, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Missing Scene, crypt scene discussion; library scene discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He said I was scared and -” Castiel’s frown deepens, “Damaged. Broken.”</p><p>Dean’s heart clenches in his chest and his hands twitch with the desire to reach out and touch him, “Cas...” His voice is soft and more than a little concerned. </p><p>“Please don’t,” Castiel murmurs back just as softly. “He wasn’t wrong.” </p><p>The words hang in the silence for a few minutes. Cas can’t take his eyes off of the table and Dean can’t take his eyes off of Cas. </p><p>Fuck, are they really doing this?</p><p>“If you’re broken-” Dean starts and stops, feeling helpless and out of his depth. He has to clear his throat to get the words out and his voice still cracks. “If you’re broken, the hell does that make me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	high tide

**Author's Note:**

> because television is stupid and sometimes scenes get cut out. also because these two need to talk about it. they're part of a very small group of people who know where they're coming from with these traumas.
> 
> anyway, warnings: they talk about the crypt scene, the library scene, 11.04, etc. established relationship.

_"The only thing I know is this: I am full_  
_of wounds and still standing on my feet."_

**[NIKOS KAZANTZAKIS](http://wordsnquotes.com/tagged/Nikos-Kazantzakis) **

 

* * *

 

"Why didn’t you kill him?” 

Dean’s voice sounds more quiet, less angry than it had when Sam was there. His hands are resting on the chair in front of him and his head is bowed, his shoulders broadcasting his exhaustion clearly. 

Castiel lets out a breath and lets himself deflate, “Dean...” 

“I just -” Dean rubs a hand over his face, “After everything he did to us? To me?” He looks up at Cas, trying to communicate his concern with his face alone, “To  ** _you_**?” 

The hurt in his voice makes Castiel pause for a moment.

Dean starts talking again before Cas gets a chance to, “I know - believe me, I fucking know about Sam’s new moral code of ethics or whatever but  ** _Cas_**.” 

He wonders if his friend can tell how genuinely concerned he is.

“That guy?” Dean lets out a slightly incredulous laugh and starts pacing, “ _Fuck_  that guy. After everything he’s done? The world isn’t gonna stop spinning without that piece of shit.” 

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts, his voice inexplicably fond. “I just... I couldn’t.” 

The look Dean gives him makes Castiel huff a laugh and shake his head sadly, “He’s human, Dean. He’s human and defenseless and I...”

Cas frowns and looks down at the table, “I’m not ‘100%’ as you say.”

He looks visibly uncomfortable and unnerved by the topic and Dean feels like the world is spinning. 

“He said I was scared and -” Castiel’s frown deepens, “Damaged. Broken.”

Dean’s heart clenches in his chest and his hands twitch with the desire to reach out and touch him, “ _Cas_...” His voice is soft and more than a little concerned. 

“Please don’t,” Castiel murmurs back just as softly. “He wasn’t wrong.” 

The words hang in the silence for a few minutes. Cas can’t take his eyes off of the table and Dean can’t take his eyes off of Cas. 

Fuck, are they really doing this?

“If you’re broken-” Dean starts and stops, feeling helpless and out of his depth. He has to clear his throat to get the words out and his voice still cracks. “If you’re broken, the hell does that make me?” 

Castiel smiles and it’s half fond, half bitter, “Strong.” 

“Well,” Dean laughs somewhat breathlessly and tries to ignore the way his eyes are prickling, “That’s - that’s bullshit.” 

“If I was -” Dean hates how his voice keeps cracking. It makes him want to hide.

“If I was so  ** _strong_**  -” the word comes out dripping in sarcasm and disgust, something deep inside of Dean snapping. “- I wouldn’t -”

Dean’s shaking with the effort to get the words out of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you.” 

He keeps his eyes firmly on the ground and pretends his hands aren’t clenched into fists at his sides. He pretends that there aren’t a few stray tears of frustration and grief sliding down his cheeks.

He’s so busy pretending that he misses it when Cas walks across the war room. He misses it when Castiel stops in front of him, close enough that all he’d have to do is look up and their faces would touch. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs quietly, his voice making it evident this conversation isn’t any easier for him. “I...” 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and prepares himself for a blow that doesn’t come.

“I know -” He reaches out hesitantly and brushes a finger against Dean’s sleeve, testing the waters. “I know there’s - there’s nothing I can say that will make this any easier for you.” 

“God,” Dean lets out a slightly incredulous laugh that’s marred by a sob and resists the urge to yank his arm away. “Stop  _doing_  that.” 

Castiel huffs and moves his hand away, “I’m not doing anything, Dean.”

“Stop being understanding,” Dean snaps, his voice rising with his level of panic. “Stop letting me touch you, stop trying to make it up to me like you’re not the one who I beat to a half dead bloody pulp!” 

That seems to give Castiel real pause because he takes a step back. 

“You...” Castiel takes his time choosing his words, ignoring the way his borrowed heart is hammering in his chest. “Dean, I  _did_  hurt you.” 

“Christ,” Dean laughs again, verging on hysterical this time. “It’s not the same thing, Cas.” 

Castiel makes a frustrated noise and looks up at the ceiling, “ ** _Dean_**.” 

Dean opens his eyes at that and chokes a little on the words that are trying to come out of his mouth, “Don’t you  **dare**  say it’s not my fault.” 

It earns him a glare.

“Fine,” Castiel snaps, losing his temper a little. “As long as you stop pretending that everything’s okay now because we’re ‘ _even_.’” 

“Cas I don’t give a shit about that,” Dean tries to explain, his hands coming up to grab at his own hair. “I don’t - it wasn’t you. It was the spell. I know you and I know -” His mouth works but there’s no sound coming out, just a slightly desperate and wild look in his eyes. 

God, he’s terrible at this. 

Castiel’s face is blank as he watches Dean, giving nothing away. 

Dean swallows thickly and manages to get out, “I know  **you**  wouldn’t hurt me.”

Something in Cas’ face softens and he lets out a shaky breath, finally looking away.

It’s unnervingly quiet in the bunker for a few minutes. The only sound Dean can hear is his own heart thudding wildly in his chest and his ragged breaths. 

“That’s why.” 

Castiel doesn’t look up when he says it. His eyes are still trained on the table, anywhere but Dean. 

Dean must make a confused noise because then Cas is laughing and it’s sad, a little broken, but it’s a laugh. 

“That’s why I’m not upset with you, Dean.”

He looks up after a moment and offers a tentative smile, “I know it wasn’t  ** _you_**.”

Dean shakes his head and starts to back away but Cas steps forward, feeling a little bolder, and grabs his wrist loosely.

It makes him stop in his tracks, his heart stop beating for a few seconds. 

“I know...” Castiel watches the top of Dean’s head and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that he’ll be able to communicate this properly. “I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling... but I have been in similar situations.”

He can feel Dean’s pulse jump at that. 

“And I know that -” He lets out a breath and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the vivid memories of everything. Every swing, every order from Naomi, every splatter of blood. “I  ** _know_**  that it’s - it’s impossible to forget.” 

Dean’s shaking a little bit when Cas opens his eyes again. 

“Does it...” Dean licks his lips, clearly restraining himself from running away from this conversation, “Does it ever get easier?”

He doesn’t want to lie to him.

“No,” Castiel admits carefully after a few moments. “Not in the way you would like it to.” 

He keeps talking before Dean can spiral too far, “But it does get easier to...  _allow_  kindness from the ones you’ve hurt. It...” Castiel’s hand slides down Dean’s wrist until it’s loosely wrapped around his fist. 

“Touching,” he murmurs, “Gets easier. You’ll never stop wondering why they’re letting you touch them, but you...” 

He’s not sure how to explain it without it sounding weird.

“Perhaps greedy isn’t the right word, but you’ll start to savor every touch. You’ll commit every touch to memory. Everything you’re allowed.” 

Dean actually huffs a laugh and smiles, his hand unfolding a little in Cas’ grip. 

“I have yet to look in the mirror and not feel guilty for the things my hands have done at the bidding of others,” Castiel admits quietly, his eyes focused on their hands. “I suspect that will never get easier.” 

“You know,” Dean licks his lips and steps a little bit closer to Cas, his eyes still closed. “Bobby told me one time -”

He smiles despite himself and deepens his voice, “Son, good hunters know that they ain’t always good people. That’s what makes ‘em good hunters. Because they look in the mirror and they know all the shit they did and they know it all ain’t so cut and dry. The second they stop knowin’ that?”

Dean’s smile slips a little and his voice softens, “That’s when they stop bein’ a good hunter. That’s when they stop being a person.” 

Castiel watches Dean’s face for a few moments of silence, allows it when Dean flattens their palms against each other and twins their fingers together. 

“You’re a good person, Cas,” Dean says eventually.

It makes his Grace flare momentarily, stupidly filling with pride and affection. 

“I’ve had a good teacher,” he murmurs, squeezing Dean’s hand. 

Dean leans forward finally and rests his forehead on Cas’ collarbone. He lets out a shuddering breath when Cas’ free arm comes up and wraps around him. 

“ _I’m so sorry, Cas_.” 

The words are whispered into his shirt so quietly that he almost misses it.

“I know that you don’t - you don’t blame me, okay? But  _I_  do. And I can’t promise that I’m going to... be okay with this. Ever. I just -” Dean’s breath hitches and his free hand grabs a fistful of Cas’ jacket, “I’m so sorry.” 

Castiel feels like there’s something caught in his throat and he has to clear it a couple times to actually get words out. 

“And I... I know you aren’t angry either. But I am... truly, truly sorry, Dean.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, touching in ways that scare the daylights out of them for different reasons. 

It’s not closure, exactly. 

But it’s more than they’ve ever had. 

 

* * *

 

“I wasn’t mad at you,” Dean says quietly into the half drained glass of whiskey.

He knows Cas just walked into the room. He can’t hear him, but he knows the signs. He knows the way the air moves differently when Cas shows up in a room. Even without the Mark, he can feel the shift in the atmosphere. 

Dean doesn’t look up from the table and he doesn’t get a response.

It’s fine, he wasn’t expecting one.

“I know why you let Metatron go and I sure as shit don’t agree with it, but I get it.” 

He takes a sip of his drink and frowns, “I was just... I was scared.” 

One of the chairs across from him gets pulled away from the table and then he can just make out Cas’ shirt. He still doesn’t want to look up from the table. 

“I know you can take care of yourself, Cas,” Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I know that I’ve got no reason to be worrying about you as much as I do.” He purses his lips, swirling the liquid in his glass around aimlessly, “But I do. I worry.” 

“I know,” Castiel says quietly, a little guiltily. “I worry about you too.” 

Dean smiles and it’s a little bitter, it tastes a little sour in his mouth. “I’m not the one who’s still on the mend.”

Castiel gives him an unamused look, “ _Dean_.” 

Sometimes Cas leaves Dean a little speechless with his ability to pack so much into one word. He doesn’t have to look up at him to know that Cas is exhausted and concerned and ready to lecture Dean on taking care of himself. 

“Me?” Dean keeps talking, ignoring it for right now because there’s nothing he can say that will make Cas stop looking at him like that.

“I’m broken.” He drains what’s left of his glass and finally glances up at Cas for a moment, giving him a tired smile, “I’m holding it together with duck tape and gorilla glue. But I’ve been falling apart and slapping myself back together for years now. I’ve got practice.” 

He stands abruptly and goes over to the liquor cart and pours himself some more, “You’re not broken, Cas. You don’t need duck tape, you need time to rest.”

Castiel huffs an exhausted, slightly indignant laugh, “I feel broken.” 

“I know what broken looks like...” Dean turns around to smile tiredly at Cas and leans against the bookshelf, “And it ain’t you.” 

Castiel shakes his head fondly, a small, pleased smile on his face. “You’re very kind.” 

Dean ignores the way his heart flips at the smile. 

He pushes himself off the bookshelf and walks over to the table, “Look, I could tell you to suck it up, swallow it down and keep on keepin’ on.” Dean sets his glass down on the table and ignores the way his cheeks flare up, “But hell, if there’s anyone in the world who deserves to hole up at home and watch shitty TV all day, it’s you.” 

Castiel meets his eyes and Dean wonders if it’s possible to feel his Grace like this. Wonders if it’s possible that the way his whole body lights up when Cas looks at him like this is because of that.

“Why did you let Amara get away, Dean?” 

It’s a fair question. Really, it is.

But Dean’s tired and he’s had too much to drink and he’s not expecting it. 

He straightens up abruptly, his face closing off. The soft smile he’d been wearing melts into something blank and not-quite cold. 

“I...” Dean looks away from Cas and takes a long drink of the whiskey. 

“I don’t know.” 

He looks down at his socks, the ones that Charlie had given him with the Starfleet insignia on them. His chest aches all over again with thirty different emotions and the biggest, loudest one is grief. 

“You two...” Castiel keeps his voice quiet and doesn’t push, doesn’t try to get Dean to look at him. “You two have a connection.” 

It’s not a question so much as it is a statement. 

“Yeah,” Dean answers without thinking, hates the way his voice cracks.

“And you...” He can feel Cas’ eyes boring into him, wonders if Cas is checking to see whether or not his soul is still there. “You want to protect her.” 

Dean downs the rest of his glass in one go and sits down in the chair next to him, “I don’t know.” 

The war room is silent for a few minutes at the admission, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

The chair scraping against the floor barely registers with Dean until Cas is right there, standing in front of him. He looks up a little dazed and is abruptly reminded of Stull and how Cas had looked so heavenly, had given him a glimmer of hope. 

Castiel’s hand reaches out and hesitates, hovering in the air between them until Dean gives a slight nod.

His eyes close when he feels those familiar hands settle on his cheeks, his heart stutters when Cas’ thumbs brush over the lines of his cheekbones.

“We make quite a pair,” Cas murmurs thoughtfully, his thumbs not stopping.

Dean snorts despite himself and leans into the warmth, “Yin and Yang.” 

“No...” He hums and settles one hand on the back of Dean’s neck when he feels him leaning in closer and closer, “Not quite.” 

“I swear, if you start singing Katy Perry...” Dean finally gives in and lets his face fall into Cas’ stomach, resisting the urge to rub his face against the soft shirt. 

Castiel huffs a quiet laugh and runs a hand through Dean’s hair, “Are you implying that being a missing puzzle piece would be inaccurate?” 

Dean actually thinks about it for a moment as one of his arms wrap around Cas’ waist before he mumbles a little petulantly, “No.” 

There’s something easy about this.

It’s always easy with the two of them, even when it’s not easy. Even when they’re both scared to touch each other, it’s still easy to do something so sentimental like press a kiss to Cas’ chest. 

No matter where they are in their relationship, what they’ve done in their lives - they fit. Cas dropped into Dean’s life and slipped into a hole he hadn’t realized needed filling. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Cas promises quietly, runs his fingers over Dean’s scalp. “You’re not alone in this, Dean.” 

It doesn’t mean much in the long run - they can’t predict what will happen with the Darkness, they can’t stop Amara. Cas can’t protect Dean from whatever Amara has planned for him, not if she’s really God’s sister. 

But it makes him breathe a little easier, at least for right now. 

“For what it’s worth, Cas,” he mumbles into the shirt. “You’ve got me for as long as you want me.” 

It’s a little more honest than he intended to be.

Castiel’s Grace flares up so much that the lights flicker for a moment. Dean laughs fondly, tightens an arm around Cas. 

He almost misses it when Cas says, “Does forever work for you?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out, “That works.” 

 

* * *

 

 

_"We laughed at the darkness_  
_So scared that we lost it_  
_We stood on the ceilings_  
_You showed me love was all you needed"_

Heaven by Beyonce

**Author's Note:**

> read it on tumblr [here](http://deansmom.tumblr.com/post/133416444612/why-didnt-you-kill-him-deans-voice-sounds)


End file.
